Weiss levered himself up again.
‘Gidday, Lloyd, what…?’
‘Shut up.’ Tobin came into the room; Ken followed, closed the door and stood with his back to it. Ken’s pale eyes were riveted on me as if he’d memorised everything else about the room and was now concentrating on the essentials.
I moved away from the bed. ‘Tobin,’ I said. ‘Family matter?’
‘Don’t piss me around, Hardy.’ He was wheezing with the effort of having climbed the stairs. ‘What’s this about January and a kidnapping?’
I shrugged. Ken smiled and took his hands out of his pockets.
‘God, it stinks in here,’ Tobin said. ‘How can you live like this, Sammy?’
‘He’s got no graft coming in,’ I said.
Tobin shook his head. ‘You’re obvious, Hardy. That’s your trouble. We’re going to talk about this the hard way or the easy way. Which is it to be?’
‘What’s the hard way?’
‘After Ken here knocks you around a bit.’
‘Oh, that’s all right then,’ I said. ‘I thought you were going to try it yourself. I’m not too worried about Ken. Nobody with razor cut hair ever gave me much trouble.’
Weiss had fallen back on the bed. He watched us with wide eyes and kept licking his dry, cracked lips. Tobin eased his big shoulders inside the well-cut suit. ‘I didn’t mean a fair fight, Hardy. I’d join in from time to time. We could take as long as we liked. No one’d care in a shit hole like this. I could’ve made busts for six different offences on the way up.’
I was thinking fast. I hadn’t got anything out of Weiss of value yet and it was clear I wasn’t going to get a private session with him. Also there was no point in trying to keep January’s association with Karen Weiner secret. If Weiss didn’t tell Tobin he’d tell someone else. Tobin wasn’t my idea of an ally but this time he wasn’t an outright enemy either. I sat down on the chair by the card table.
‘We can talk, Tobin. Just as an act of good faith, how about telling me what brought you here?’
Ken looked disappointed but Tobin’s rubber hose days were behind him. He relaxed, sniffed a few times, brushed the blanket with his hand and perched on the end of the bed like a fat owl.
‘Fair enough, Hardy. I heard that this piece of shit was celebrating. Off the water wagon and back on the hard stuff. I wondered what he had to celebrate. The last I’d heard from him was about you and January. I thought there might be something in it for me. Is there?’
‘What’re your politics, Tobin?’
‘Politics? Shit. My politics’re vote for Lloyd Tobin. He knows what’s best for himself.’
‘That’s what I thought. Well, it’s like this. January’s mistress is Karen Weiner. Her husband is…’
‘I know who he is. So?’
‘There’s some crazy out to get January. He bombed the office, took a shot at Trudi Bell…’
‘I don’t remember a report on that last incident.’
‘There wasn’t one. It was just before we went to Washington.’
‘Where January nearly got barbecued. You’ve got an exciting job, Hardy.’ Tobin took out a tin of cigars and lit one; he blew out a stream of smoke as if he was spraying disinfectant around. ‘And Mrs Weiner’s been kidnapped, did I hear you say?’
‘That’s right. I think Sammy saw the kidnapper. I’ve got a few other possible leads on him. Nothing much.’
‘Sammy’ll tell us all about him, won’t you, Sammy?’
‘Not much to tell,’ Weiss muttered.
‘You’d be surprised.’ Tobin puffed more smoke. ‘A bomber and a gun merchant. Sounds promising, Hardy.’
‘I don’t think it’s political or terrorist. Seems to be personal.’
‘That could depend on your point of view. Well, it seems as if we’re both holding good hands. I’ve got control of Sammy’s information and you’ve got leads and…background. Right?’
I nodded. Tobin was corrupt and ruthlessly ambitious and a hundred other unlikeable things but he wasn’t stupid. I looked at the typewriter on the desk in front of me. The sheet of paper sticking up had a half line of type on it: ‘Peter January’s erogenous zones…’ Ken shifted his feet impatiently.
I suppressed a sneeze; the air was dusty as well as evil-smelling. ‘As they say in Washington, Tobin, we need to cut a deal.’
‘You do,’ Ken said.
Tobin tapped ash onto the floor. ‘Shut up, Ken. Let’s hear it, Hardy.’
‘We cooperate. You get the bomber but with a minimum of violence and getting Karen Weiner out safe is the top priority. I control the story. I keep January as clean as I can.’
Weiss yelped: ‘Hey, that’s my story!’
‘Shut up! Okay, Hardy, you’ve got a deal. Let’s hear all about it, Sammy. It happened before you got pissed, I take it, so I want it all crystal clear.’
‘Not here,’ Weiss moaned. ‘I need to clean up and breathe some fresh air. I need some coffee.’
Tobin looked at me. ‘How long’ve we got?’
‘Next contact is seven o’clock tomorrow.’
Tobin stood up. ‘Tons of time. Let’s get out of this pigsty.’
Weiss washed his face, got dressed and we tramped down the stairs. Tobin wheezed after one flight. Outside, he pointed across King Street. ‘McDonalds,’ he said. ‘I’m hungry.’
Weiss whimpered. ‘Jesus, Lloyd, I can’t face food.’
‘You can look the other way. Got a bottle on you, Ken?’
Ken nodded and Tobin looked pleased. ‘We’ll put a drop in the coffee. Might even give you a belt, Sammy. If you’re good.’
We went into the place which was almost empty. It needed sweeping and disinfecting after a hard day’s cooking and selling. Tobin ordered two hamburgers with French fries, Coca Cola and coffee. Weiss wanted water; Ken and I settled for coffee. We took a table in the corner and Tobin spread his food out in front of him. Apparently he liked to look at it for a while before he ate it. Ken spiked the coffee from a flask of Bundaberg rum.
‘Here’s to you, Sammy.’ Tobin lifted his cup and took a gulp. He opened the polystyrene box and examined the hamburger. ‘Looks okay. Now, what have you got to say.’
Weiss sipped water and scratched his head. His fingernails were black and he still smelled bad. ‘I saw her leave with a weirdo. I told Hardy that.’
Tobin spoke through a mouthful. ‘Height?’
‘Average.’
‘Shit,’ Ken said.
I drank some of the coffee. It wasn’t good to start with and the rum didn’t help it much. I was dead tired; I knew I shouldn’t be drinking. ‘Think back, Sammy,’ I said. ‘They’re coming out into the lane. Who’s taller, him or her?’
‘Him.’
‘By how much?’
‘Couple of inches.’
Tobin raised an eyebrow as he swallowed. It was an uncomfortable thing to watch.
‘She’s a tall woman,’ I said. ‘Five eight or so. Makes him a fair height.’
‘And thin,’ Weiss said. ‘Real thin.’
Tobin nodded. ‘You’re doing fine, mate. I’m proud of you. Go on.’
Weiss closed his eyes. ‘Thin but like he was fit, with muscles, you know?’
‘Unlike many,’ I said. ‘What about his hair and complexion?’
‘Sort of stringy hair, dark and a bit long. Sallow, I’d call him.’
‘What’s that mean?’ said Ken.
‘Never mind.’ Tobin started on his second hamburger. ‘Now, would you say he was a good type, British say, like me and Hardy? Or a wog or a Jew boy like you?’
‘What about Scotch?’ Ken poured more rum into his coffee.
‘Don’t confuse him,’ Tobin said, ‘and the Scotch aren’t sallow. Sammy?’
‘Could’ve been mixture. English maybe with…I don’t know, Lebanese or something.’
‘I’d like a mixture,’ Tobin said softly. ‘I’d love Lebanese. What was he driving?’
‘A car.’
Tobin’s cheeks bulged as he chewed. ‘I hope you’re not trying to be funny. What sort of car? What number?’
‘I don’t know about cars and I didn’t get the number. I can’t even remember what colour it was.’
‘Anything else?’ I said. ‘Clothes?’
‘Dark.’
Tobin held out his coffee cup for more rum. ‘Not much to go on. What’ve you got, Hardy?’
‘We’ve got him on tape. Trying to get an identification of the accent. We get the feeling he’s local. Talks about watching January’s office. Sounds as if he belongs to the area.’ I got out my wallet and extracted the note. ‘We’ve got two others like these.’
‘Have you now. Funny-looking paper. How come I didn’t see the others?’
‘You saw photocopies. That’s all your boys asked for.’
Tobin banged the table with his fist. The boy and girl serving the food looked up in alarm. Tobin smiled at them and waved his hand. ‘No trouble, we’re the police.’
‘But you paid,’ the girl said.
Tobin smiled at them and turned back to look at the note. ‘I have to do everything. We should’ve had the originals.’ He picked the paper up and sniffed it. ‘Funny smell. ‘Course, anything’s possible in Hardy’s wallet. Is that it? That the lot?’
I shrugged. ‘Trudi Bell thinks she might know the voice. Might have heard it. She’s trying to place it.’
Ken was scribbling notes. ‘Where is she?’ he said.
‘My place.’
Tobin leered. ‘You lucky dog.’ He popped the last of his chips into his mouth and chewed noisily. ‘Well, I’d call it promising. Quite promising. We’ll take Sammy into town and get him to talk to one of the faggot artists. See what comes of that.’
‘I’m too sick, Lloyd.’
‘You’ll be sicker if you give me any trouble. I’ll get one of our flash lab men to analyse this paper, Hardy.’
I nodded. I was almost dead on my feet. I could feel control of the whole thing slipping away from me but I was too tired to do anything about it. Tobin looked fresh and keen. He stood up and hauled Weiss to his feet by the collar.
‘I’d say a meeting is called for. I want to see January and the rest of you in the morning. Let’s make it 10 o’clock in my office. Right?’
I had enough pride left in me for a couple of small challenges. ‘Make it 11. We might have something on the voice by then. And don’t let him near a telephone.’
‘Don’t worry, Hardy. Sammy’s going home to my place. His sister can make him a nice cup of tea and put him to bed. You don’t look like you’re going to be much use to Trudi tonight. Give her my best.’